


Down for the Count

by TheArchaeologist



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy Whump, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Swearing, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23333977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchaeologist/pseuds/TheArchaeologist
Summary: There were a total of three lessons the Hargreeves had to learn about Five and sedatives.
Comments: 69
Kudos: 987





	Down for the Count

Five shivers, and Diego sprints.

This isn’t how he planned to spend his night.

On a normal evening, he would be out on the streets, breaking bones and cracking skulls, ridding the world of a few assholes who decided to bother the decent people of the city. Usually, he would get back to his apartment late, and take a nice hot shower to ease the tension constricting his muscles before dressing in his most comfortable slacks. Typically, he would crash on the couch, decluttering his brain by watching early morning reruns of old comedies while munching on leftover, reheated dinner.

However, he isn’t at his apartment right now. He’s not having a shower, he’s not wearing his slacks, and he’s not listening to the canned laugh track of people probably long dead.

Instead, he’s running through town carrying Five, because some jackass idiot figured it’d be a darn swell idea to go kidnapping his not-quite-kid brother to show off to his boss.

Diego was collateral damage, which was flattering, taken along for the ride to keep Five in check while they were transported to the empty warehouse by the docks. There, he was treated to a nice long session of being tied to a chair with the kind of rope that burned when rubbed against the skin, the restraints around his chest keeping his spine ramrod straight and left to watch Five breathe heavily, slumped unconscious while the guy made a call.

Now in his arms, Five’s head lolls, pathetic and heavy and bouncing in time to Diego’s run. His brother is out cold, making no effort to save his scrawny neck from bending jarringly as they move, but Diego’s in too much of a hurry to worry about avoiding every ache and pain he is causing. If he gives Five low-degree whiplash because it gets them home faster, then that is a wedge of guilt he can live with.

Skidding awkwardly around a corner, they barge through a couple walking arm in arm, the calls of protest falling behind them as they enter familiar streets. Sweat slips down Diego’s spine, pooling beneath the vigilante gear he was lucky to have already pulled on when everything went to shit.

A part of him, small and not that important at the moment, wishes he’d taken his sweet time gutting the guy. The blow to the head had been too quick to be considered justice for the hassle he’s been put through, even less so for the disaster that’s now looming on the horizon.

The familiar, and for once welcome, sight of the Academy comes into view, and Diego slams into the gates, flinging the doors open before stumbling into the lobby. Five’s deadweight leaves him staggering gracelessly.

His voice echoes as he yells up the stairs, “Mom! Mom, we need you!”

“Oh, thank God.” A voice breathes to his right, and Diego glances across to see Allison hurrying out the living room, her hands automatically going to Five’s face and cradling it. Sharp eyes flick up to him, heavy with concern as they dart to every bruise and scab Diego knows is dirtying his skin.

“Hey.”

“What the hell happened?” Allison demands, brows pinched with concern. “Klaus rang us. He’d found your apartment-”

“Later.” Diego cuts off, swallowing a gulp of air. It scrapes against his throat. “We need Mom. Where is she?”

“Upstairs-”

“Then _get her_.” Not waiting to hear his sister’s response, Diego pushes by and marches towards the infirmary, forcing the door open with his shoulder and wincing as his abused muscles protest.

The stink of disinfectant and low lighting greets him, and quickly crossing the room, Diego carefully spreads Five out on the bed, untangling the limp arm that hangs uselessly around his neck. His brother barely notices, his eyes shifting briefly behind closed eyelids, dark hair falling over his face.

He can hear footsteps moving on the floor above, no doubt Allison fetching Mom and dragging her here, and knowing he will be nothing but in the way if he continues to hover, Diego takes a step back.

It’s at this moment his mind takes the opportunity to remind itself that, yes, there is a body attached to it, and running for an hour straight does things to a guy.

Gulping thickly, an overwhelming rush of dizziness ploughs into Diego, his lungs struggling painfully like a man near drowned. His pulse hammers fast within his ears, beating and beating and beating until he feels as if he’s going to puke.

Swallowing again in an effort to unstick the sandpaper taste in his mouth, Diego swipes the back of his hand over his forehead, the movement reminding him that he’s still wearing his leather gloves. With jerky fingers he rips them off, letting them land messily on the floor.

The adrenaline now bleeding from his system, Diego feels himself sway, blindly reaching out for the edge of the bed before his legs can completely turn to jelly.

“Shit…”

Below him, Five’s pale, and not just the typical colour that comes with having a cold or flu. Instead, he’s taken on a sickly hue, a shade that seems to sink into his cheeks and emphasise his eyes. The dark circles hanging underneath are made bold by how lifeless his body appears to be, sweat dampening his clothes even though Diego knows that his body holds no heat.

As he stands there, staring uselessly, trying to calm his lungs and convince his heart not to pound itself out his chest like a bad twist in a sci-fi movie, Diego watches the violent shivers spasm down Five’s arms, making his fingers twitch and curl even when unconscious.

Footsteps clamber down the stairs, and moments later Mom walks in, Allison hot on her heels but pausing in the doorway.

Mom’s face goes soft and gentle as she looks at him, but Diego waves away any comment she starts to make.

“Five first.”

If Dad failed to teach him anything else, the one thing Diego knows is that pain could be dealt with later, the situation of the moment can’t. It might be one of the few things Diego ever listened to, one of the few times the old man ever had a _point_ , because as much as Diego’s life sucks right now, unless Mom gets to Five soon they could be in a lot more trouble.

Thankfully she doesn’t question it, going to Five’s side and resting her hand over his forehead. A delicate frown crosses her face, and she starts to take his pulse.

“I’ll call the others, let them know you’re here.” Allison says, waiting until Diego grunts in acknowledgement before vanishing out of sight.

“Has he been like this long?” Mom asks, her eyes on her work.

Diego makes some kind of humming noise he’s not all too proud of but is also too tired to deal with, staggering back until his legs hit a chair and letting himself collapse heavily into it. The wood creeks in protest.

“Sedatives.” He mutters through teeth he can’t be bothered to open properly.

“Mild, or-”

Diego shakes his head. “Strong. _Very_ strong. He was out like…” Clicking his fingers, Mom sighs and nods.

“Do you know how much he was given?”

That’s the part when things start to get pretty blurry for Diego, courtesy of a lovely baseball bat getting friendly with his skull. He can only shrug pathetically, sending Mom a useless expression he hopes conveys the large variety of emotions he feels right now.

Mom purses her lips, but thankfully says nothing more on the matter, returning her attention to his prone little brother on the bed.

She has every right to be concerned, they all do.

Five and sedatives have a history.

They didn’t know, way back when. It was like how a person can go half their life before realising they’re allergic to something super obscure. Dad’s training, for all it was deeply manipulative, psychologically scarring, and emotionally stunting, rarely ever left injuries that warranted more than a few painkillers and a couple of ice blocks. 

Diego can recall on one hand the amount of times someone ended up with a cast, and only a few more where Mom had to put in stitches. In those cases, the drugs they were given were so low they barely buzzed against the surface, and no ill-effects even had the _chance_ to bubble up before they were flushed through their systems and gone again.

Growing up, Five was a blunt, arrogant boy.

He would switch between aloof and a downright prick at will and knew every single button he could press to get under Dad’s skin and cause a reaction. He was a whirlwind of temper, pragmatism, the need to be better, stronger, faster, and would often march at a pace not even Luther, for all his Number One-ness, could hope to keep up with.

However, despite all that, he wasn’t _Vanya._

Unlike her, there was no need to smother his powers under drugs and low self-esteem because as much as Five knew Dad, their Father also knew Five, and understood what methods he could use to keep a kid who could jump anywhere, at any time, under his thumb. If Five had been anything like their sister, his reaction to sedatives would’ve been discovered much sooner, in a way that wouldn’t have had Diego’s heart in his throat and a wrenching fear in the pit of his stomach.

This didn’t happen though. Five isn’t and wasn’t in any way similar to their sister, so instead of finding out early, on a random day it didn’t matter and with everyone on hand to help, the issue only raised its ugly head when they began to go on missions. 

Proper missions, with people who had no qualms with bringing Hell down onto children.

Dad damn near killed Five trying to remove three bullets from his side.

At first, they’d all thought Five had simply been too weak, that the blood loss and physical trauma had left him struggling through the surgery and the anaesthetic. Dad, Mom, and Pogo all followed that theory, believing it to be truth, and Diego can distinctly remember gearing up with his siblings to tease Five over it in an effort to fight back the terrifying possibility that they might’ve never seen their brother again.

Funny, how that ultimately worked out.

They didn’t get to teasing him through, and only a few days later, the exact same thing happened to Ben.

In comparison to the rest of them, Five and Ben’s powers are a lot more complex.

They have connections to things miles beyond Diego’s meagre comprehension, links and bounds that tether them to abstract realities and parallel paradoxes and every other kind of bewildering word that gets his head spinning and stomach churning.

Time, space, the very fabric of the universe, all of it decided one day that it was going to condense down and wedge itself into the bodies of two small boys.

The result is a kid who can tear space apart, slip through, and emerge exactly where he wants the other side, and another who chats with a different dimension via his body and allows the locals say hello once in a while.

Their powers walk on a different path than simply throwing things or super strength, and it’s those very same powers that don’t take well to their host being knocked the fuck out.

As Mom starts working Five out his sweater so she can set up an IV, Allison returns to the room, the first-aid kit from the kitchen under her arm.

“Everyone’s on their way.” She says, approaching Diego and dragging one of the other random chairs with her. She sits in front of him, opening the box on her lap. “They should be here soon.”

“Terrific.” Diego hums, fighting against a scowl. Pain is gradually working its way through his system, singing of slices and bruises and bumps he hadn’t even been aware of. Circling his wrists, raw skin etched deep with rope burns brush against his sleeves, making him twitch.

Allison pulls out a bottle of antiseptic and a cotton ball, wetting the material and bringing it up to his face.

“Let me?”

He blinks at her slowly, taking a nice, full second to comprehend, before nodding, biting his tongue as she brushes the ball against a tender cut just beside his left eye.

The bat did that, he thinks, or the initial fight.

Not looking away, Allison asks, “Mom, how’s Five doing?”

“I’ve set him up with an IV and a cool cloth for the moment, but I’m afraid the best course of action is to let him ride the sedatives out.”

That was the next problem they had to discover the hard way.

If whatever part of the universe that inhabits Five hates sedatives, then it outright loathes anything being smothered _on top_ of them, even if the intent is to help. As violent and as volatile as his reaction is after he’s sent to a blissful, unconscious land, Five’s far better off letting things run its course than sinking into even more drugs.

Klaus sometimes jokes that Five will never make a good druggie.

“So,” Allison starts, with that kind of finality that means she’s about to get her away without the need to rumour, “What happened?”

“Commission.” Diego lets his eyes slip closed. His jaw locks stiff as she brushes another open cut on his face. “More accurately, a guy _from_ The Commission. Decided to go solo. I think he was after a promotion.”

“Decided to go solo?” Allison echoes.

“Yeah, jumped me at my place then used me as leverage to get Five to follow directions. Tied us up, then knocked him out,” He nods towards Five, “To make a call. Wanted to show off to his boss.”

Allison finishes cleaning his face, and with fingers so soft Diego could almost mistake them for Mom’s, starts examining the bruising he knows is circling his neck. She makes a humming noise that manages to be both wounded and fierce and tugs at the collar of his shirt.

“Off.”

“Ask me out to dinner first.” Diego opens his eyes just in time to see his sister restrain herself from smacking him, fixing him with an unimpressed glare instead.

As she helps him stiffly wiggle free of his gear and shirt, Five makes a small noise, rolling his head from one side to the other, now facing them.

Allison’s perfect brows dip down. “How long will he be out?”

“Hours yet, I imagine.” Diego’s face scrunches as he tugs his arms out the sleeves, his shoulder cracking noisily. “Guy topped him up afterwards. I think he knew that Five had to be kept unconscious or he’d be dead.”

“And is he, dead?”

“As a doorknob.”

Sighing deeply, Allison turns back to him. Her eyes survey the damage to his chest. “Pity.”

“Yeah.”

In comparison to his face, his chest and arms are far better off from the ordeal. Years of fighting has toned his body to the scraps and scuff marks that come with that style of life, and by now it takes more than a smack to leave him battered and feeble. It’s mainly just bruising, and a sore set of ribs that will smart for a while. Nothing Diego’s never dealt with before.

Same can be said for the rope burns on his wrists. There’s some on his ankles, as well. Allison just hasn’t found those yet.

Mom’s already cleaning and bandaging Five’s.

“What’s up with your shoulder?”

“Hm?” Diego hums intelligently, blinking a little blearily at her.

She looks at him as if talking to a small child. He can’t find the energy to gripe at her for it. “Your shoulder, Diego. What’s wrong?”

“Oh.” Licking his lips, and only now realising his bottom one is split, Diego shrugs and then hisses. “Same as the face. Baseball bat.”

“A _baseball bat?”_ She repeats, incredulous.

“You deaf?”

Allison catches herself again before she can hit him. “ _No_. It’s just…Usually The Commission is a bit more…” Struggling to find the words, she mimes finger guns.

“Like I said, the guy was looking for a promotion. I don’t think whoever took his call was impressed, either. Yelled a lot. Didn’t hear what they said.”

“Do you think we should be worried?”

“About yelling?”

“About the fact that, apparently, The Commission wasn’t happy about Five being taken. Shouldn’t they rejoice about that? They hate him.”

Not entirely following, Diego simply comments, “He’s easy to hate.”

Pinching two fingers on the bridge of her nose, Allison breathes in a long intake of air and holds it, before letting it out through her mouth.

“Ok, why don’t you chill for a bit, lean against this wall, and I’ll sort you out and we’ll talk later, ok?”

“Sounds good to me.” Diego huffs, already closing his eyes and drifting off. He misses whatever her reply is.

****

*****

Someone draping a blanket over his shoulders drags Diego up from his comfortable slumber.

“Sorry.” Vanya whispers. “Go back to sleep.”

“Nah, ‘m up.” He slurs, rubbing his eyes with an awkward hand. He blinks, head turning stiffly as he glances around, taking in the room.

They’re all still in the infirmary, though Diego’s no longer in the chair he fell into. He’s been carefully settled in an armchair only Luther could’ve dragged in from the living room, sparking a mental image Diego has no doubt will get used against him at a later date. Vanya’s hovering at his side, looking thoroughly guilty at waking him up, while Luther and Allison doze in two more armchairs across the room, Luther with his head tilted forward and arms crossed over his chest. 

Klaus, meanwhile, seems to have stolen Diego’s original seat, and is sitting quietly beside Five, running his fingers through the not-quite-teenager’s hair. He occasionally mutters something, no doubt talking to Ben.

“What’d I miss?” Diego asks Vanya.

“Um, not much? You’ve been asleep for nearly eight hours, though.”

“Shit, really?”

Vanya thins her lips as she nods. “Yeah, we thought it’d better if you were in here so Mom could keep an eye on you, but with Five…” She briefly looks over to their brother, mouth moving open and closed as she searches for an accurate word, finally settling on, “ _Impending_ , we didn’t want to add another bed.”

“Logical.” Sitting up and cracking his spine, Diego winces, feeling all kinds of crooks in his neck. His ribs ache at the movement, and he quickly settles back down as his breathing hitches. “But not exactly comfortable.”

“Sorry.”

“Had worse.” Cautiously, he runs his tongue over his cracked lip, finding the taste of copper and a bump of congealed scab. “How long do we have? Before he’s no longer _impending?”_

Vanya shrugs, settling down onto another armchair propped with cushions. Her violin case and handbag sit on the floor beside her, a black coat draped over the back of the seat. 

“He’s getting there, but not yet.”

“Terrific.”

Klaus’ head swivels over in their direction, and he wags his fingers at Diego, eyes darting up and down his body as he takes in the damage Diego can feel complaining, though much of it is hidden under the hoodie someone had the forethought to stick in into. Untucking his chair, he gives Five’s shoulder a small squeeze and wanders over to them, draping himself across the arm next to him.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, brother-o’-mine.” He sing-songs, but his voice is hushed enough to be quiet in the fragile room. There’s a faint worry line creasing his brow. “Enjoy your vacation?”

Snorting, Diego lightly swats his thigh. “Any time away from all of you is a vacation.”

Grinning at the familiar teasing, Klaus settles, tutting and very gently hitting him back.

“Klaus is the one who found your apartment.” Vanya speaks up, crossing one leg over the other. “He’s the one who rang us.”

Instantly the grin on Klaus’ face lessens, and he swallows, glancing over to Five.

Diego winces. “Is the damage bad?”

“He’ll be fine once everything’s out his system.” Klaus says.

“I meant my apartment.”

“O-Oh, um, kinda? I think a window or two was smashed, and your furniture was everywhere. I don’t think your landlord will be pleased with the knives in the walls, either.”

Sighing tiredly, Diego runs a hand over his face, regretting the movement as is jars his shoulder and disrupts the edge of a band-aid covering a cut on his cheekbone.

The apartment was fairly new, rented out using his inheritance and in a decent part of town.

Although the Academy is still under all of their names, Diego couldn’t stand the thought of living there permanently, beneath the same ceilings as his childhood of nightmarish manipulation and broken bonds. Five’s managing it, and Luther, and Klaus, though he’s switched to a new bedroom a few floors up, and he’s pleased for them, but for Diego it’s too much.

He needs his space. Klaus steals his shirts.

A tiny part of him regrets the decision. If he’d been here, at the mansion and not singled out and alone, then the alert could’ve been raised hours earlier than they were, and Diego wouldn’t have been forced to cook up an escape plan by himself.

There wouldn’t have been any leverage against Five, either, meaning he could go full ham on the guy without fear of a brother getting a bullet in the brain.

“Hey, chin up, it’ll be fine.” Klaus titters. “Lick of paint, a new windowpane, and you won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“If I’m allowed back.”

“It’s hardly your fault.” Vanya protests. “It’s not like you asked to be kidnapped.”

“I don’t think that will come into it. The place is trashed, end of, who wants a tenant who attracts that kind of trouble?”

Vanya pulls a face which tells Diego he just won. Next to him, Klaus sighs, drumming his fingers against his crossed arms.

“There’s plenty more apartments about, I’m sure. Daddy’s money isn’t going to run dry anytime soon.”

“It will with the way you’re spending it.” Vanya smirks, and Klaus blinks at her.

“And what, dearest, _dearest_ , sister, are you trying to say?”

Diego raises an eyebrow up at him. “Bro, seriously? How many deliveries have you had today alone?”

Klaus makes a ‘tsk’ noise between his teeth. “After a childhood of fun and games restricted to _noon and half-past noon_ , I think I’m entitled to a little pampering.”

“You brought an inflatable duck.” Vanya pushes, “We don’t even _have_ a pool.”

Waving a hand at her, Klaus huffs, “Schematics.”

“ _Please_ don’t give him ideas.” Diego begs Vanya. “For the love of God, he’ll just find a way to add one.”

The look that crosses Vanya’s face tells him she didn’t think of that, and a dawning, well-meaning horror sets into her eyes as she turns her gaze up to Klaus, who’s positioned himself in a contemplative pose.

Her voice is as stern as they’ll ever hear it when she demands, “ _Don’t_.”

“Well-”

“Someone would drown.” Diego cuts Klaus of. “With our luck, someone would drown.”

A small pause stretches between them.

“Luther?” Vanya asks.

“Oh yeah.”

“Definitely.”

“Sink like a rock.”

****

*****

It always starts small.

That’s the deceptiveness of it, how unimpactful it first appears to be. There’s a bit of twitching, some movement behind closed eyelids, the gradual reactions to sound in the room, but overall, it’s peaceful, barely noticeable, like sitting in a boat on calm waters watching a storm gradually build on the horizon. If Diego didn’t know any better, he’d believe nothing was wrong, that this is normal, and he would slink off to his bed and sleep guiltfree.

He does know better, though.

They all do.

Ben understands it the most. 

It’s one of those odd bonding things they all have between them, where a situation was utterly shitty but somehow, because another sibling has gone through it as well, they grew closer. Normally it was due to Dad’s stupid training sessions, or his rules, or his domination, or anything else that man deemed a good idea.

Vanya and Klaus know what it’s like to be locked up. Diego and Ben understand the horror of having to aim at and kill innocent creatures. Allison and Luther have all the different ways Dad manipulated them into doing what he wanted, making them push their siblings, become accomplices, become another set of dictators in their lives.

Ben and Five have the mess that is waking up after sedatives.

Diego barely has the chance to register the small noise Five makes before Klaus is across the room, grabbing Luther’s shoulder and shaking him hard.

Luther startles, his head snapping up violently. “Wha-”

“Time for you to get moving, big guy.” Klaus says insistently, stepping back as Luther all but jumps to his feet, crossing to the bed where Five’s slowly starting to toss his head from side to side.

The disturbance gets Allison jerking out of sleep, blinking dozy eyes which rapidly sharpen with comprehension as she takes in the room around her. When Five shifts on the bed she hurries to join Luther, running a soothing maternal hand through his hair.

“Easy.” She whispers at him. “Easy, Five.”

Five groans, and as Diego uses the armchair to push himself to his feet, his brother frowns, not yet free of the hold the drugs have over him and unaware of the tension sinking into the room, as thick as honey and just as difficult to swim through. His fingers curl, catching and gripping the sheets.

“I’ll get Mom.” Vanya’s voice is hushed, and her footsteps barely make a noise as she scurries out the door.

Klaus and Allison position themselves beside Five’s head, coaxing him gently into wakefulness as his breathing starts to hitch. Luther has his hands floating just above Five’s arms, not yet willing to touch in case it sparks things sooner.

Limping his way over, Diego awkwardly sets himself among them.

Luther sighs. “You should be resting.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you look it.” Luther flinches as Five kicks, dodging the leg and quickly sticking his hand out to prevent Diego’s already fragile ribs getting booted. He gently grabs the ankle and manoeuvres the foot back down. “Why don’t you head upstairs for this, if he runs into you-”

“Last time he saw me, I had a gun to my head.” Diego grouses, though it lacks a decent amount of heat. His arms cross around his chest. “He’ll freak even more if he doesn’t see me straight away.”

Luther huffs, the same one he used to use when Diego was a hormonal, agitated teenager throwing totally-not-tantrums on their missions as kids. “Fine, just be careful to keep out of his-”

They all yelp as Five sits bolt upright in a wild flash of blue, a strangled noise tearing at his throat as he swings his arms wildly. Luther lunges at him, grabbing his wrists before he can start clawing, at himself or others, it can be either depending on the drugs, while Allison runs her hand carefully up and down his back in a copied gesture she picked up from Mom.

“Easy, bro.” Diego says evenly, trying to catch Five’s confused gaze as it groggily spins around. “You’re home.”

“What?”

“You’re at the Academy, Five.” Luther tells him, his voice firm to cut through whatever fog still lingers. “You were given-”

“O-Oh.” Five gulps, panting, frowning. “Oh, shit, right.” His face twists up into a pain grimace and he slumps backwards, hitting the bed heavily. Luther keeps his grip on his wrists. “Fuck, shit.”

Klaus swipes up a few locks of hair from Five’s eyes, grinning enough to show teeth as Five dazedly peers up at him. “Nice to see you too.”

Five doesn’t answer, instead squirming on the bed, wiggling uncomfortably. Although he’s still fairly floppy, still clambering out of the drug induced bewilderment, Diego can clearly see the tension growing in his fingers, how they stiffen and start to fist. Luther notices as well and steadies his stance.

“You need to rest, Five.” Allison tells him, talking clearly. “Try to sl-”

“No, no I can’t.” Five immediately protests, teeth now grit and eyes becoming dauntingly hazy. “I need to-”

“ _Rest_.” Diego interjects sternly. He nearly gets kneed for his efforts as Five starts thrashing to kick off the blanket. Klaus grabs the back of Diego’s hoodie and drags him back a pace.

Fighting against Luther’s hold, blue begins to sizzle around Five’s fists, spluttering and dying like a pair of flints failing to spark a fire. His entire body locks up, doubling over as he hisses, face screwed tightly.

“Let me go.” He grunts, frown deepening when Luther doesn’t move. His tone rises to a shout. “Luther! Let me go!”

“Five-”

“Let me go! I-It’s not right! I need to-”

“I _know_ you do,” Luther talks over him, ignoring the way Five’s now actively fighting his hold. “But not yet, you’ve only just woke up. The longer you can ride it out without-”

Five nearly topples himself over the edge of the bed and Klaus scrambles to catch and steady him, receiving a frustrated growl for his efforts. He quickly draws back his hands, sending Allison an unreadable look as he crosses his arms around himself. A second later he nods, apparently responding to something Ben has said.

The door to the infirmary opens and Mom and Vanya appear in the bright hallway light, Mom quickly hurrying over. Vanya hangs back, hovering in the doorway as her teeth nibble their way along her lip. Briefly, she and Diego lock eyes, and she shrugs helplessly.

It’s one thing for Five to lash out at Luther, the guy’s built like a tank, however Five hitting Vanya, even if he doesn’t really mean it, could spiral a whole load of unwelcome side effects that none of them need right now.

Diego’s had a long day, he could do without the house being brought down on top of him, thanks.

“Number One, _let me go!_ It’s not right, it feels wrong, I need…I can’t…” Five’s voice wobbles, blue sinking down his arms. 

Sometimes Five liked to show off in that prideful, smug way that littered all of Diego memories of childhood. He can clearly recall his brother summoning his blue, holding it up, parading it around like a trophy while flaunting whatever vaguely positive comment Dad had given him that morning.

Diego can also remember Ben asking to see it once, and he, Allison, and Vanya all marvelling at the gentle spirals and twisting patterns the blue in Five’s hands created. Diego had pretended to ignore them, waving away any offer to come look with a snarky remark about how it was _girly_ and how Five had _fairy dust_.

Ten-year-old Diego was an asshole, alright?

This is different. This isn’t Five demonstrating the control he has with his power, or him threatening to zip across a room and stab someone for a wayward comment about his height. The blue isn’t twinkly and sparkly and thousand tiny universes captured in his palms. Instead, it is hard, jagged, flashing like lightning and whining like building electricity. 

Even stood back, Diego can feel the promise of electric shocks crackling in the air, fizzing as it attempts to reach out of Five before being yanked back, bound by whatever tethers it to their brother.

This is last thing they had to learn through trial and error.

Five’s and Ben’s powers detest drugs, loath anything else being added on top even if it’s designed to help, and completely, wholly, freak _the fuck out_ once fully restored.

Taking his brother’s shoulders into her hands, Mom crouches as she tries to meet Five’s frantic gaze. “I know it hurts, dear, I know you’re uncomfortable-”

“Ha!” Five laughs, flinging his head back and slumping down onto the bed. His eyes stare up at the overhead light, a sheen of sweat on his face. “ _Uncomfortable_ -”

“But you need to ride it out in bed.” Mom presses on. “You’ll hurt yourself if you try to run.”

“I don’t care! I’m not a child!”

They tried restraints, once, the padded kind that go around wrists and ankles. Unfortunately for them, Dad spent Five’s early years teaching him how to become a miniature escape artist, meaning the restraints worked for all of three seconds before Five was out and off.

Rumours had been another attempt, with permission from Five. However, it quickly became apparent that all Allison’s powers did was delay the inevitable, perhaps forcing him to sleep a bit longer at best. The same way their sister can’t go around rumouring people into having their broken arms fixed again, she can’t prevent Five’s powers going nuts.

The powers want an outlet, and they get it, no matter how long it takes.

After all these failures they switched to Luther, and _only_ Luther, because as much as Diego tries to insist otherwise their brother is the best at withstanding the beating. Plus, while Five may be strong, he’s never managed to jump with passengers. Having a human latching onto him effectively anchors him to the spot.

Five whimpers, not quite crying but damn close. “It’s not _right_.”

“I know, I know.” Mom soothes, gentle fingers on his forehead. “Try and breathe through it.”

Face pinching, Five rolls onto his side, curling up tight with his knees against his chest. He looks small, tinier than usual without his big bravado personality making up for his short height. When he’s not shooting harsh words or drinking his liver to an early grave, it’s pretty damn easy for Diego to see him as an actual teenager, something that becomes more and more unnerving every time it happens.

Mom and Allison start shushing him.

“How long d’you think this will last?” Vanya asks, directly beside Diego, sending him near flying and sparking a whole load of discomfort in his aching body.

Rubbing his ribs, Diego only just catches himself about to shrug and stops himself. “Dunno. I mean, it could be-”

At Allison’s frantic hand flapping to shut up, he snaps his jaws closed, glaring pointedly at her when she gestures to Five and mouths _‘do you want him to freak out more?’_

“Maybe we could put on some music or something?” Klaus suggests, his hand on the back of Five’s neck. “It might help a little. I have headphones.”

“Or it could overload him.” Luther adds.

“Not if it’s something quiet and soothing.” Glancing over at her violin case, Vanya hums thoughtfully. “There’s tons of songs designed to help people calm down. It might give him something else to think about rather than just the pain.”

“Do you know any?”

“Nothing specific, but there’s lullabies, and I know a few classical pieces, maybe-”

Five moves so quickly that Diego barely has the chance to flinch out of range. 

In a calculated blur of speed, Five’s heel swings out and embeds directly into Luther’s chin with a loud crack. His brother reels, crying out in shock, and before anyone has the chance to process what has happened Five slips free from Luther’s distracted grasp and spatial jumps to the other side of the room in a bright, dazzling flash.

“Shit.” Diego hisses as Vanya goes to steady Luther.

“Five, wait-” Klaus squeaks.

_Thud._

“Five, honey-” Mom steps forward, placing herself in the line of action, only to get neatly bypassed.

_Thud._

“Luther, are you ok?” Allison asks, rounding the table. Luther spits out a glob of blood and saliva from where he must have bitten his tongue, but nods. Already a dark bruise is forming on his jawline.

_Thud._

Letting out a long breath of air between his teeth, Diego winces, slumping back against the side of the bed. His arms cross over his chest, the sleeves of the hoodie brushing against his sensitive wrists, his eyes trailing back and forth at the scene before him.

Klaus glances at him, then at Five. “Chances of getting him back?”

“Lower than a penguin’s ass.”

The comment earns Diego a snort, but the humour lasts no more than a few seconds as Five peels himself off the wall of the infirmary, his arms shaking and breathing ragged. Wheezing, he turns towards them, eyes unfocused, and breaks into a dead sprint. 

A few steps in he jumps, a violent flash of blue that leaves dots dancing in front of Diego’s vision, before reappearing behind them with a gasp and smacking into the opposite wall.

Pushing away, he takes off again, and then again, and then again. Back and forth, back and forth, like some twisted game only he knows how to play.

This is why they try and keep him on the bed.

The first time Five became a running mass of zapping blue energy, Dad had simply watched, and made notes, and allowed his adopted son to nearly brain himself sprinting from one side of the room to the other. Diego and his siblings had been banned from entering so they couldn’t watch, but that didn’t stop them from hearing the chaos as they sat doing their homework at the dinner table.

Diego can remember Vanya flinching with each violent thud, and Klaus gradually inching his chair closer, his eyes fixed in the direction of their brother beyond the walls.

Five tried to explain it once.

“It’s like…A build-up of energy.” He had said, sat crossed legged on his bed and looking thoughtful. “Or shaking a soda bottle but not undoing the lid. The longer I’m out, the more it builds, until I eventually wake up and-”

“Go batshit?” Diego had supplied.

“Try and drain it.” Five corrected, flinging something, Diego can’t recall what now, at him. It might have been a pencil.

Luther had caught it mid-air. “So you have to exhaust yourself?”

“Well, not _me_ , just my powers. Normally I have a limit on how much I can jump, but after it gets shut away that goes out the window, and it takes forever for it to settle again. I really don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Does it hurt?” Vanya had asked.

“Like a _bitch_. I could probably just ride it out for a few hours and be fine, but it’s so disorientating that I just end up running around trying to bash my skull in. I’m not really aware of it until after.”

Blue crackles as Five continues to zap up and down, still violent, still electric, still keyed up and unlikely to run out of juice anytime soon.

“At least it’s not Ben.” Klaus jokes weakly, earning an eyeroll from Diego, a huff from Luther, a glare from Allison and a tut from Vanya.

How Ben’s currently reacting, Diego doesn’t have a clue, but he can guess that their deceased sibling is pretty pleased he’s not the one in the firing line. While Five goes nuts trying to dispel the build up of power, Ben’s reaction to sedatives involves his tentacle friends, a lot of screaming, and several days spent recovering from the ordeal. 

Dad never sat in for those sessions. He made his notes from the other side of the door.

“Let’s…Let’s see if we can set up some cushions or something.” Luther’s shoulders sag, and he swallows visibly. Diego wonders if he’s swallowing blood. “We can at least try to soften the blows.”

Stiffly, Diego reaches over and pats him on the back, then heads back to the armchair.

****

*****

It always starts small.

At the soft noise from the bed, Diego peels open an eye, twisting to peer down at his smallest brother curled up on the mattress. Five’s face is scrunched, his brows dipping down into a confused, but exhausted frown. His lips twitch, and a tongue slips out to lick the dryness away.

“Hey.” Diego offers lowly, glancing around at the rest of their siblings to check they are all still asleep.

They lay splattered on chairs and cushions, contorted into positions which will make for sore necks and creaky bones later on. The complaints will be something Diego will probably end up listening to for days, no doubt.

Klaus is propped up on a chair with his head and arms on the foot of Five’s mattress, though from his current angle all Diego can see is a mass of curly dark hair and Klaus’ shoulders steadily rising and falling. Vanya is on the floor, out cold on some of the large armchair cushions they used to lessen the blow against the walls, while Luther is slumped in a corner, dead to the world and catching flies. Allison drools gracelessly beside him. She will probably feverishly deny it later.

Perched on a chair at the head of the bed, Diego is the only one who fixed himself a decent sleeping position, however the complete lull of blissful unconsciousness hasn’t quite claimed it yet.

Groaning, Five’s hand snakes up from under the blanket draped over him to tenderly hold his forehead. “ _Fuck_.”

“That’s what you get for trying to brain yourself, bro.”

“Hmm.” Five agrees without really listening, peeling his eyes open. He blinks blearily, lacking the wild, untamed look clouding his vision before. After a moment their gazes lock, and Five croaks, “What…”

“Sedatives, Five.” Sitting up, Diego leans over so his face is closer to Five’s, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together between them. His ribs twinge with the movement, but they’re nowhere near as bad as before, thanks to Mom and her magical box of painkillers. “Heavy ones.”

“Oh.” Five says, then, with more understanding, “ _Oh_. The Commission, right.” His hand goes from his forehead to run over his face, fingers rubbing into the dark bags beneath his eyes. After a second, Diego watches as several gears finally click in his head. “Wait, that guy, he had you.”

“Yep.”

“He broke into your apartment, the _gun_ -”

“Woah, hey,” Diego stands, pushing Five back down as he goes to sit up. “Chill, bro.”

“But…” Gazing at him, Five’s eyes trail over his face, gradually falling down Diego’s body and, despite Diego hiding most of them away under his clothes, managing to find every blemish and stiff spot. Five’s lips thin, and the frown returns, this time heavy with something other than exhaustion.

Diego pats his head, half because he knows it’ll frustrate Five and he’s an annoying older brother, and half to knock him out of whatever brooding he’s about to fall into. “Quit it. The guy’s long dead, nothing’s gonna happen now.”

“The Commission’s back, though, they won’t let this-”

“To be honest, I don’t think The Commission was all that pleased either.”

That gives Five pause. “What do you mean?”

“While you were out, he rang headquarters. I didn’t hear much of what was said, but I’m pretty sure Australia heard the shouting on the other end. The guy seemed pretty put off afterwards too.”

“That still doesn’t change anything.” Shaking his head, Five rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “The Commission now knows they can get to me, with the right leverage. That’s going to put you all in the firing line. _And_ ,” He adds before Diego can cut in, “If The Commission wants me to stay when and where I am, then they must be planning something. I can’t risk-”

“Jesus Christ, go to _sleep_ already.” Klaus’ slurred voice interrupts, and they both peer down the bed to see him glaring weakly. He whacks Five’s foot lightly. “You can deal with all your teenage angst tomorrow, it’s been a long day, let a guy sleep.”

Five bristles as the accusation of being an angsty teenager, which he _is_ , but doesn’t comment, instead heaving himself upright and batting away Diego’s hands when he tries to push him down again. Slowly he gazes around the room, taking in their siblings while his fingers absently feel the bandages around his wrist.

“It’s a wreck in here.” Five comments. He glances at the door when he picks up on Mom’s distant humming. “What’s with all the cushions?”

“So you wouldn’t knock out what little brains you have.” Klaus yawns. He rests his chin on his hand, sharp eyes checking over Five’s face keenly. 

There is more colour to their brother’s cheeks now, with the drugs purged from his system and his powers no longer demanding every ounce of attention he has, and his skin no longer shines with sweat. There are bruises marking his arms, both from the kidnapping and the attempts to break down the walls, but they’re mostly hidden under shirt sleeves.

When Klaus catches Diego watching, he winks.

“I don’t remember much.” The admission seems to pain Five a little. His shoulders hunch. “Did I hurt anyone?”

Diego knows from experience it’s better to be blunt with Five rather than try dodging questions. “Gave Luther a pretty good whack to the chin, but apart from that, you’re good.”

Instantly, Five snaps his eyes over towards said brother, scowling at the mark blackening their brother’s face. It’s not the worse thing Luther’s ever been dealt, not by a long shot, but Diego doubts voicing that now will help much.

“Have you ever considered a football career?” Klaus asks absently, “Now you get a do-over with everything?”

Five’s shoulders are still curled around him, but his expression loosens, and he raises an eyebrow. “Have you ever considered a career in being anything other than a pain in the ass?”

“Ok, _now_ I’m wounded.” A hand on his heart, Klaus shakes his head as if mourning a great loss. “My own brother. First, I had to deal with Diego and Vanya, and now _you_ -”

One of the pillows piled on the bed gets thrown Klaus’ way, their brother squeaking even though it misses by a mile. Diego chuckles as Five mutters under his breath, flopping back down with a huff.

Sitting down in the chair, Diego crosses his feet at his ankles, trying to find a comfortable position despite with the mountain of cushions he has stacked behind him. Klaus scowls in his direction, even though Five was the one who threw the pillow, then rests his head against his palm.

A few beats of silence pass by, long and quiet and uneventful, and Diego begins to feel his eyelids start to droop downwards. It’s been a long day, or couple of days, considering he has no idea how long they’ve all been here, and for as much as catnapping helps it means little against proper, actual sleep. A yawn breaks open his jaw, making his face momentarily sting as all the injuries he’d forgotten about stretch.

Typically, it’s just when he starts to doze that Five pipes up a small sounding, “Sorry.”

“Hm?”

“Sorry, about all this.” Five makes an aborted gesture towards the rest of the room. “I know it’s a pain.” After a beat, he adds, “Next time, just let Mom handle me.”

“Dump your sorry butt on Mom? You monster!” Klaus says, but it immediately falls flat.

Chewing on his lip, then hissing when he remembers it’s split, Diego huffs, “It’s hardly your fault.”

“Still. I’m sorry.”

“Five-”

Grabbing Five’s foot, Klaus squeezes it, making their brother flinch. “Look, did you _want_ to get drugged?”

“What? No-”

“And did you _want_ some jackass to kidnap you?” Klaus pushes.

“No, but-”

“What about your powers going berserk afterwards? Did you fancy that today?”

Letting out a tired sigh, Five wiggles his foot out of Klaus’ hold. “Stop being smug. I’m cranky and tired and everything hurts.”

“Finally, he admits it.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Love you too, Five!”

With a long-suffering groan, and an added grumble just for effect, Five flings his arms over his face, but the small, quiet tilt upwards of his lips doesn’t escape Diego. Drawing up his knees so Klaus can’t reach his feet, their smallest brother drags up the blanket to cover himself.

“Fine. Screw you jerks.” Flipping over, Five sticks his back to them, muttering, “I’m going to sleep.”

Diego tilts his head, smirking, “Oh, leaving us so soon?”

“I hate you. I hate you all so much.”

Diego laughs, tilting his head back, a lighter, fresher feeling swirling around his chest for the first time since his apartment was broken into. Klaus joins in, earning another projectile his way from a groggy Vanya on the floor, only unlike her brother, Vanya doesn’t miss.

There’s a ton of things still to be dealt with, The Commission, where the hell Diego’s going to live from now on, Luther’s battered chin and the general state of the room, but for the moment Diego is more than happy to put all that shit on pause and take a well-earned, much appreciated break.

Sinking down into the chair, Diego drifts off with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a small oneshot. I started this on the 5th January.
> 
> Why is this over 8000 words? Why can't I write small things and be done with it?? Why did this have to turn into a beast?!?
> 
> [Anyway here’s my tumblr](https://ancientstone.tumblr.com/)


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